


Once Upon A Dream

by whiteroses77



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteroses77/pseuds/whiteroses77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Batman is injured badly, it’s up to Superman to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Dream

TITLE: Once upon a Dream 1/1  
PAIRING: Clark/Bruce  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77 (whiterose)  
RATING: NC-17  
WORDCOUNT: 8,445  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: When Batman is injured badly, it’s up to Superman to save him.

~*~

He was on the other side of the world, searching under rubble, trying to find the survivors from a bomb blasting through a housing complex, when the JLA distress alert resounded on all frequencies. He heard a number of his teammates respond to whatever the crisis was. He continued his search knowing if he were needed, they would ask for him specifically.

Later, he returned to the Watchtower, covered in concrete dust and emotionally tired, although, he had found all the missing victims, they hadn’t all been alive. He just wanted to get himself cleaned up, go home, and have a sleep. Then maybe he would pop into the Batcave to see what Batman was up to, Clark smiled tiredly to himself, his best friend might not admit it but Clark knew Bruce liked having an excuse to take a break. Although, Bruce wasn’t much of a talker, Clark relied on Bruce to be his sounding board, someone he could talk to about the horrors they both witnessed in their line of work.

As he continued down the hallway towards the locker rooms, he met Dr Hamilton heading away from sickbay, the usually unflappable doctor looked quite agitated. Superman asked, “What’s going on?”

Emil stopped for a moment, and frowned, “Didn’t you hear the distress alert?”

Superman nodded, “Yes, but the other’s handled the situation, didn’t they?”

Emil shook his head slowly, “They only got there in time to bring him here, to see if there was anything I could do. But I’ve done everything I can.”

Superman swallowed in apprehension, wondering which of his teammates had been hurt so badly, he questioned, “Who…?”

Emil grimaced, “Bat…”

Before Emil could finish his name, Superman’s eyes widened in horror and he sped towards the sickbay.

He came to a stop just inside the doorway. He swallowed the bile in his throat and approached the bed. He saw the body on the bed, battered, bruised, there was a burn down one side of his body, and then Superman’s gaze darted to the corner of the room where the wreckage that used to be the Batsuit lay in a heap. His gaze returned to the bed, his face was in ruins, his eyes swollen shut, his nose broken. A single tear fell down Superman’s cheek and then his hand turned into a fist. He heard the sickbay door open, and he gritted out, “Who did this?”

The voice that answered wasn’t the one he expected, the Martian Manhunter answered, “There is no simple answer to that question, Kal El.”

Superman turned and glared, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

J’onn answered solemnly, “From what we can gather, Batman put up a valiant effort but he was finally overwhelmed. A chloral hydrate compound was used…”

“They used drugs to knock him out…?”

“Yes, and then they continued to beat him until they heard us coming, and then they escaped…”

The bile made it into his mouth, and he rushed to the sink and heaved. He bowed his head over the sink; he wiped the spittle from his mouth, and he turned on the faucet to rinse the sink. Superman turned back towards his teammate; he pointed at his friend’s body, “You’re saying they did most of that, after they put him to sleep?”

The Martian Manhunter nodded, “Kal El, you should know by now that the criminals of this world are not playing by the rules of fair play. They will do anything not to go to jail.”

Superman growled, “Well, maybe it’s about time I forgot about those rules too!”

He headed for the door, he didn’t know who had done this, but it wasn’t going to be hard to find somebody in Gotham to start the hunt.

J'onn called out, “He wouldn’t want you to do that, Superman!”

Superman’s face was like a thunderstorm as he turned and shouted, “Somebody in fucking Gotham has killed my best friend, and somebody is going to pay!”

“He’s not dead, yet.”

Superman’s gaze went to the damaged body on the bed; he licked his lips, “Emil said that he couldn’t do anything for him.”

J’onn reached out and grasped Superman’s shoulder, “Doctor Hamilton can do no more, but I can.”

Superman gazed at him in shock, “How can you help him, if Emil can’t?”

J’onn released his arm and approached the bed and looked at Bruce, “His injuries are extensive; however, it is not his physical injuries that are making the situation hopeless. The sedative used on him and his own mind are working in conjunction, preventing him from returning to consciousness. His mind is protecting itself.”

“So, what are…?”

“I am going to enter Batman’s mind and I am going to tell him that it is okay to wake up, that he is safe now.”

Superman’s whole body was filled with renewed hope; he approached the bed also, and gazed at his best friend. He leaned over and whispered in his ear, “It is going to be okay, Bruce, you just wake up, and it will be no time at all until you’re back on your feet.”

Then he moved aside and let J’onn get to work.

~*~

J’onn had told him to go and get himself cleaned up. Superman agreed and went to have a shower, and then he returned to sickbay to see how J'onn had progressed.

Superman observed for endless moments as the Martian Manhunter focused intensely on Batman, his hand on his forehead. He was beginning to wonder what was taking so long, when J'onn pulled his hand away and grimaced, and said a word that Superman assumed was a Martian expletive. He asked, “What is wrong?”

“The human mind is an incredibly intricate thing, but compared to my Martian mind or even your Kryptonian mind, it is very simple to manipulate. However, Batman’s mind is the most complex and strongest human mind I have ever come across, even in his coma like state; he is fighting to keep me out.”

Superman frowned, “What does that mean?”

“It means that every time I catch a glimpse, Batman hides further behind the barriers in his mind.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“Batman might not fight someone he trusts.”

Superman tilted his head, “J'onn, Batman trusts you…”

“We are allies, Kal El, but Batman does not trust anyone completely. However, you Superman are the closest to trusting someone that Batman ever gets.”

Superman glanced at Batman, although, Bruce had never told him; Clark instinctively knew that it was true. He asked, “Okay, but you said yourself how strong Batman’s mind is, if you can’t penetrate it, how am I possibly going to do it?”

“I doubt a human could, Kal El, but I believe you could, with my assistance, I will act as a conduit.”

He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he was willing to try anything to save Bruce. He nodded his agreement, “What do I have to do?”

~*~

One moment he was sitting on the chair next to Batman’s bed, in sickbay at the Watchtower, and the next he found himself on a long, seemingly never-ending road. He turned in a circle; he could see nothing to the horizon. He was very surprised, he had entered other peoples mind’s with the aid of technology before, and it had not been like this. It had been dark and confined; he tipped his head back and gazed at the endless blue sky. It wasn’t exactly how he had imagined what Batman’s mind would be like. Although, he knew despite his playboy persona that Bruce was actually quite reserved. He also knew deep down that Bruce’s soul wasn’t as dark as most people believed, his fight for justice, his love for an old man, and his friendship with Clark attested to it.

Now he just had to find Bruce. He tried to use his telescopic vision to figure out which way to go. He soon realised he couldn’t use it. He looked at the sun in the sky, wondering which direction Gotham was; in the end, he chose a direction and tried to super-speed, and realised, he couldn’t use any of his powers. 

He blew out an exasperated breath; this was going to take much longer than he thought. He set off in the direction he had chosen and began his journey.

~*~

As he walked, his clothing changed around him, his Superman uniform was replaced by jeans and a red t-shirt, his red boots by tan work boots. As he wondered about that, the scenery around him became familiar and as he walked he realised he was on Hickory Lane, the country road that led to his family farm in Smallville. He was completely confused, this was Bruce’s mind, why was he here? He had expected the road to lead to Gotham or more precisely, Wayne Manor.

However, he continued on, he soon saw the Kent farm come in to view. He reached the entrance to the driveway and then headed towards the house. As he reached the yard, he heard the sound of a hammer. He turned and saw a figure bent over, fixing the fence. He wore old jeans and a blue plaid shirt, his dark hair hung in a curtain obscuring his features.

He called out, “Hello…?”

The figure looked up then, and his eyes widened, “Clark…?”

Clark swallowed, as he saw the sun-kissed handsome features, he inquired in disbelief, “Bruce…?”

Bruce straightened up and dropped the hammer, a happy smile spread across his face, “You finally got here…” then Bruce rushed towards him and pulled him into a tight hug, “You came home.”

Clark returned the hug tentatively, unused to such physical closeness from Bruce. He raised his face to the sky and grimaced. What in the world was going on?

~*~

He knew that this was Bruce’s mind but why would Bruce come here, hide out here, instead of going to his home. Whatever the reason, Clark was beginning to realise this mission was going to be trickier than he had thought. He had believed he would find Bruce and just tell him to wake up. However, with all this, the farm, Bruce calling it home, it didn’t seem as simple anymore. Clark thought the best thing he could do was bide his time and wait for the right opening. Maybe interacting with Clark for a while, Bruce might begin to see the truth for himself.

Bruce pulled away and grinned, “C’mon, help me finish this fence.”

Clark stared at his usually dour friend in awe; he nodded distractedly, “Sure.”

Bruce slung an arm over Clark’s shoulders as they made their way over to the fence. Bruce bent over, and picked up the hammer and then held it out to Clark, “It feels as if I’ve been waiting forever for you to get back.”

Clark decided to play along, he smiled, “Well, I’m here now, that’s all that matters.”

Bruce placed the hammer in Clark’s hand and stroked his thumb over the soft flesh, “Yeah, that’s all that matters.”

~*~

They finished the fence and then went into the house, entering the kitchen, Bruce asked, “Are you hungry, I could make you some dinner?”

Clark chuckled, “Since when can you cook?”

Bruce watched him for a long moment and then smiled, and shrugged, “I know how to use a can opener.”

Clark laughed, “I thought so!”

Bruce pouted endearingly, “Do you want some or not?”

Clark’s brow furrowed in consternation, it was weird interacting with a Bruce Wayne, who seemed so different from his friend, softer, happier. He replied, “Yeah, show me what you can do with this canned food then.”

Bruce declared, “I’m up for a challenge.”

Then he set about cooking a meal for them.

~*~

They were sitting at the table, and Clark wiped up the last of his gravy with a slice of bread and ate it. Bruce asked, “So what do you think?”

The steak and gravy with a side of vegetables wasn’t exactly gourmet or even good old-fashioned home-style cooking. But it had definitely been edible and filled a hole in his stomach. He complimented him, “It was very nice; I just wish I had some dessert to top it off.”

Bruce grinned and said, “In the cupboard.”

Clark wondered, “In the cupboard?”

Bruce nodded, “It’s store bought, but I think you will like it, just pop it into the microwave if you want it warm.”

Clark gave Bruce a sideways look, Alfred would be most upset if he knew, but he got up, and went to the kitchen and got the store bought apple pie, and put it on the countertop and cut a portion. Bruce called, “And one for me.”

Clark cut a piece for Bruce but called back, “I thought you always said you didn’t like pies.”

He heard Bruce rise from the table and approach, saying, “I don’t know what you are talking about, and besides I’ve been working hard…” 

Clark felt Bruce come to a stop, coming flush up behind him, Clark went completely still, his eyes widened in alarm as he felt Bruce’s groin encounter his ass. Shit, what the hell? He tensed; he didn’t know what was going on.

Bruce breathed against Clark ear, “I think I deserve some sugar.”

Clark’s eyes darted around, oh, god! Then Bruce’s arm found its way into the gap between Clark’s body and the counter. Then Bruce picked up the plate with the pie on it and then backed away. Clark stood still, not knowing what to do. However, when he did turn around, he saw that Bruce was back at the table. Clark swallowed anxiously; yet, he then tried to shrug the weirdness off.

~*~

As Bruce excused himself to go and put away his tools for the day, Clark was left in his own childhood home, completely baffled at this strange situation. He kept having to remind himself that this wasn’t real, that it was Bruce’s imagination, his mind, but he didn’t understand any of this. Why was Bruce hiding out here, why did he seem so light-hearted, what was with all the touching, especially the incident in the kitchen? Clark really wished he could talk to J'onn about this.

Suddenly, he blinked and he was back in sickbay and J'onn lifted his hands away from both Clark and Bruce. Clark looked down and saw he was still wearing his uniform. He looked to J'onn, “What was that all about?”

J'onn arched a brow, “I am only the conduit, I could not see, or experience what it was you experienced, Kal El. I only knew you wished to return. What is the problem?”

Clark felt himself blushing slightly and took a breath, “I found Bruce, or as you speculated about before, I think he let me find him. He was at the farm.”

J'onn tilted his head, “Your farm in Smallville?”

Clark nodded, “Yeah, he seemed to be living there. He acted as though he was waiting for me. He hasn’t mentioned anything about the real world, oh, and I don’t have my powers in there. I thought it was going to be just in and then out again.”

J'onn looked thoughtful, “I can only assume that Batman feels safe there, life on a farm is far removed from the life of a crime-fighter, maybe it is some sort of wish fulfilment. You say he was expecting you?”

“Yes, he… hugged me, when he saw me…um…”

“That is unusual, yes?”

“Well, yeah…”

“However, you and Batman are close in the physical world.”

Although, he felt a little discourteous telling another close friend it, he admitted, “Yes, we’re best friends.”

J'onn nodded stoically, “It seems that in Batman’s mind, he feels freer to show his affections.”

“So, what should I do? I’ve been waiting for him to mention something from the real world to use as a segue.”

J'onn concurred, “I believe you were correct, forcing a confrontation could cause irreparable damage to his mind.”

Although, Clark was still willing to do anything for Bruce, he found he was feeling slightly apprehensive at the prospect. He asked, “Are you sure that this is not going to affect Bruce at all?

“I would not have suggested it otherwise…” J'onn reached out and squeezed his shoulder, “You can do this, Superman.”

~*~

He turned as the kitchen door opened, and Bruce came in. Clark returned the seldom seen smile being aimed at him. Bruce glanced around the kitchen, “Tut-tut, while I’ve been hard at work, tidying up outside, I’d have thought you would’ve done the dishes.”

Clark’s eyes went to the dirty dishes, he cringed, “Sorry, I guess I didn’t think…”

Bruce laughed playfully, “It’s not the end of the world, Clark.”

Clark shook his head in amazement, and Bruce looked quizzically at him and Clark explained, “You, I’ve never seen you so …happy.”

Bruce approached him, he reached out and caressed Clark’s cheek, “Why should I be miserable with you here with me?”

Clark stilled in astonishment and frowned, “What’s going on with you, Bruce?”

Bruce chuckled, “What’s going on is, I am going to take a shower and clean up.” Then he walked away and up the stairs.

Oh, my god! 

Why was this happening, was this caused by the trauma that Bruce must’ve gone through, or was it really how Bruce thought – felt, oh god.

He glanced at the dishes and decided to do them, just so he could try to ignore what had just happened.

~*~

Later on, they were sitting on the couch, in the darkened living room; the only illumination was the glow from the TV screen, and the flames from the fireplace. They were watching a movie version of Zorro, and Clark asked, “Do you like this movie.”

Bruce answered distractedly, “Huh-huh, the good guys winning over adversity is always watchable.”

Clark knew he shouldn’t push, but he asked hopefully, “Wouldn’t you like a life like that, full of excitement and danger, the alter ego, making everyone else look like fools…” he nudged Bruce’s arm, “always getting the beautiful girl?”

Bruce chuckled lightly, his eyes still on the screen, “I don’t need all that, I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Clark sighed. Well, he had tried. He reached for another piece of popcorn, and continued watching.

As the fight scenes played, Clark kept looking at Bruce hoping to see some sort of recognition or reaction, which eventually he did, but not the one he expected. Bruce reached out and put his hand on Clark’s thigh. Clark just stared at it, as the thumb played in small circles against his denim-clad thigh. 

God, this was crazy, his best friend seemed to be really making some sort of pass at him. He licked his lips, and turned his head and found Bruce gazing at him with fondness. His brow creased, he asked quietly, “Bruce…?”

Bruce told him softly, “I’m glad you came home, Clark.”

Then, he leaned towards him, and Clark went stock-still in bewilderment. When Bruce’s lips covered his, Clark took a staggered breath. He couldn’t believe his friend was kissing him. Bruce groaned against Clark’s lips and Clark opened his mouth in surprise at the sound. Then Bruce’s tongue was inside Clark’s mouth, a small sound escaped his own throat and Bruce moaned in return and deepened the kiss even more, cupping Clark’s head.

Oh, it felt really good, Bruce’s lips were softer than they looked, and he was just as great a kisser as Clark expected he would be. What…? Clark’s eyes flew open at realising his own thoughts. Had he really thought about how soft Bruce’s lips were in the past? Or how good a kisser he must be?

Bruce whispered against his now unmoving lips, “Don’t stop.”

Clark’s face became strained with emotion, he murmured, “Bruce…”

Bruce pleaded, “Don’t stop, please, Clark.”

Something inside him connected and Clark responded impulsively by grasping Bruce’s head and returning the kiss, furiously, hungry and hard. An almost Batman like growl escaped Bruce’s throat and his hand went for Clark’s crotch and squeezed him through the denim. Clark groaned, so, Bruce did it again. 

Clark found himself fighting for breath and his own hand grasped Bruce’s trying to pull it away. But Bruce fought against him and Bruce’s mouth went to Clark’s throat and sucked there and Clark’s body reacted instinctively and arched against both, the soft mouth at his throat and the hand palming his crotch, and then Clark found that instead of trying to pull Bruce’s hand away that his own hand was keeping Bruce’s there.

Bruce told him gutturally, “You want this; I know you do, as much as I do.”

Clark lolled his head against the back of the couch, and panted. Oh god, he didn’t even know the answer to that. Bruce told him, “You’re going to like this even better.”

Clark opened his eyes to see Bruce undoing his belt and then his jeans, Clark shook his head at himself. He didn’t know the answers to anything anymore. He was doing – letting Bruce do things; he hadn’t considered doing before. Even if it was all in Bruce’s mind. 

He swallowed when he saw his own hard cock released from his jeans. He chuckled desperately, it was his own cock in every detail, it wasn’t as though Bruce had ever seen it in real-life, and it wasn’t as if Bruce could imagine it so perfectly, so it was obviously coming from his own mind.

Shit, now, not only did he have the image of a beautiful tanned Bruce – oh god – just about to do something wicked with his cock, but also the idea that Bruce, the real-life flesh and blood Bruce had thought about Clark’s cock. Well, it wasn’t making his hard-on go away at all.

Bruce pushed at Clark’s red t-shirt to move it up out of his way and Clark grasped the edges himself and pulled it off over his head. Bruce’s eyes devoured his body, and then Bruce knelt down on the floor between Clark’s thighs. He reached out and caressed Clark’s body, over his broad chest, pinching his nipples before moving on to his toned stomach. Then he leant over and kissed his chest, those soft lips around his nipple, sucking at the muscles of his abdomen, Bruce murmured, “You’re so gorgeous.”

Clark breathed heavily, he felt light-headed. He didn’t know if this was real or not. He knew it wasn’t physically happening, it was just their minds coming together to create this, therefore, Clark wondered if that meant it was even more real.

The question didn’t matter anymore, when Bruce gave Clark’s cock the first tentative lick. Clark moaned deeply and then Bruce took Clark’s cock into his mouth and the wet heat made Clark’s eyes rolled back. Then Bruce started sucking in earnest and Clark’s fingers threaded through Bruce’s hair. God, his best friend was sucking his cock. Clark gritted his teeth. Oh, it felt incredible. 

He wondered if Bruce was this good in real life. Clark gasped for breath, he cried out, “Oh, shit, Bruce!”

Bruce opened his eyes and glanced up at him, pulled off until only his lips were kissing the head, Clark made an unrestrained needy sound, and Bruce smiled naughtily around his cock and then licked it again. A tremor went through him and he started to come. Bruce pulled away and it landed splattering across his own belly. As Clark caught his breath, Bruce ran his tongue through his come slowly, sucking at the soft skin of his belly, licking him clean. Clark shuddered watching him, and then Bruce lifted himself from the floor and then leaned in slowly to kiss him. Clark gazed at him, hesitant, unsure, and Bruce gave him a goading smile and Clark licked his lips and then met Bruce halfway, kissing him slowly, sharing his own taste with him. 

~*~

They kissed lazily until they ended up falling asleep on the couch. Now, Bruce was half laying over him sleeping, Clark had awakened, and he was laying there even more confused than ever, by Bruce’s actions and his own. They were friends – best friends and that was it. 

Yeah right, they were friends, friends who had been kissing, friends who had been… 

Okay, partner’s sometimes, oh, jeez and didn’t that sound like something couples said when they weren’t married yet? 

Married...? Oh god… his parents popped into his mind, He remembers his dad telling him right here in this living room, he had always said that Martha was his best friend. 

~*~

They spent the next day together, working on the farm, just as his parents had done all their married life. Although, he knew in the back of his mind that this wasn’t real, he found himself really enjoying working alongside Bruce, without worrying about theirs or anyone else’s safety and their responsibilities. He had always felt close to Bruce, he had always seen him beyond just being Batman. However, seeing Bruce totally carefree, Bruce showing his affection, and attraction, and with what they had done the previous evening, well, Clark was re-examining their relationship. Maybe there was something between them more than friendship. Their friendship already meant so much to him, adding the physical level – sexual intimacy, what would that mean for their relationship?

With these thoughts still in his mind, he went to find Bruce. Clark entered the barn; he heard movement up in the loft. He took the steps two at a time. He found Bruce moving hay bales. He observed him for a little while. Bruce was sweating with the effort; he was shirtless, just wearing jeans. Clark watched the muscles of Bruce’s back tense and flex with the movement, then his eyes lowered to Bruce’s ass, Clark unconsciously licked his lips. 

Bruce stacked the last bale, and then turned. He saw Clark watching him; he moved a damp lock of hair from his forehead and smiled. Clark saw a bead of sweat run down Bruce’s torso and into the waistband of his jeans; he saw a bulge appear at Bruce’s crotch. He looked up and caught Bruce’s eyes. He told him, “I never knew I made you feel like this.”

Bruce flicked open the button of his jeans and unzipped, he reached in and pulled out his erection, “You mean like this.” He stroked his cock; he smirked, “Always.”

Clark took a hard breath and blew it out slowly, his eyes feasted on his best friend’s hard cock, hard for him. He took another breath, and then took a step forward and then another until he stood before Bruce. He reached out and caressed the perfect flawless body that was glowing in the sunlight.

He was beautiful.

Then Clark’s memory assaulted him, images of Bruce battered and bruised, almost beyond recognition lying in the sickbay at the Watchtower. His fingers reached out and touched his bicep, where he knew Bruce already had a scar from when some villain had got lucky one night and plunged a dagger into Batman’s arm. 

This was what Bruce would’ve looked like if he had never become Batman. 

On the one hand, Clark wished Bruce had never had needed to, but on the other hand and in a completely selfish way, Clark was glad he had, because if he had never become Batman, Clark would probably never even have met him, and now and for a long time, he couldn’t imagine Bruce not being there.

At his touch, Bruce sighed, “Clark.”

Clark caressed Bruce’s cheek and then bowed his head and kissed his throat, and Bruce tilted his head back, offering it. Clark sucked there and then kissed down Bruce’s chest, his stomach and then Clark went to his knees. He took hold of Bruce’s cock and then met his gaze and then tentatively ran his tongue over the head, felt the hard flesh under his tongue and tasted the saltiness. His eyes fluttered closed and a satisfied hum left his throat. Bruce moaned above him, and Clark opened his eyes and held Bruce’s, he took some more, he swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth and began sucking. 

Bruce’s fingers threaded through Clark’s hair and Bruce began panting his name. Clark groaned around the hard cock, oh god, he was sucking Bruce’s cock, not only that but it felt inconceivably good. He reached out, and held Bruce’s hips and took even more. Bruce spluttered out his name and Clark had to reach down and give himself a squeeze. 

Bruce began gasping his name, “Clark, please, oh Clark, I’m coming!”

Clark moaned and then he remembered last night, what Bruce had done, and he held Bruce to him while he came in his mouth. Then he stood up and kissed him and Bruce grasped his head and kissed him hungrily.

~*~

That night as Clark undressed for bed, even after what they had done, he was still surprised when Bruce came in and started to undress for bed also. It was all so surreal, but after today, sleeping in the same bed together wasn’t that much of a big deal.

Clark climbed in bed and then a few seconds later Bruce joined him, pulling the covers up and then snuggling against him. Clark reached out and turned off the lights and then Bruce whispered, “Today was the best, wasn’t it? I wish every day could be like that with you, Clark.”

Clark answered a smile in his voice, “Yeah, Bruce, it was great, and tomorrow will be just as good.”

Bruce pillowed his head on Clark’s chest, “I know but I’m afraid, you won’t there.”

Clark played with Bruce’s hair with his fingers and promised, “I’ll be here, Bruce, I promise, just go to sleep and when you wake up, I’ll be there. I’m never going to leave you. You don’t have to be afraid, you’re safe with me.”

Bruce turned his head and kissed Clark’s chest, “I love you.”

Clark’s heart fluttered and then he smiled contentedly and closed his eyes.

~*~

“Kal El…?”

He opened his eyes and blinked; he squinted and glanced around sickbay. His gaze focused on the Martian Manhunter, and he asked groggily, “J'onn…?”

J'onn nodded, “Welcome back.”

Superman asked, “Is there something you needed…” he remembered his promised to Bruce, “I can’t be gone too long; I have to be there when Bruce wakes up.”

J'onn arched a brow at that nugget of information, but then told him, “That is indeed why I brought you back. You did it, Superman. Our patient has returned to normal brainwave patterns. All we have to do is wait for him to awaken naturally from sleep now, although, he will be drowsy with all the pain medication he is on.”

Superman turned and gazed at Bruce, the mission was over; he had done it. He grinned; he couldn’t wait to talk to Bruce about everything when he woke up. 

~*~

Emil advised them not to try to wake Bruce up, and let him get as much rest as he could, before he had to face the consequences of his battle. Emil offered to let Clark know when Bruce awakened so he could go home and get some rest of his own. However, there was no way he was leaving Bruce’s bedside and breaking his promise.

He stayed awake as long as he could, and then he must’ve fallen asleep. He awakened with his head lying against the mattress beside Bruce, his eyes fluttered open as he felt fingers gently stroking his hair. He wondered, “Bruce…?”

The stroking stopped and he lifted his head and looked up, bruised and tired eyes gazed at him. Clark smiled in relief, Bruce uttered in a pain strained voice, “Here…?”

Clark nodded, “Yeah, I’m here, I promised I would be, didn’t I?”

An indecipherable look flickered in Bruce’s eyes and then he frowned, “No… Watchtower…?”

Clark was perplexed but answered, “Yeah, we’re at the Watchtower, the team heard your distress signal, they brought you here for medical treatment.”

Bruce nodded slightly, he asked, “…be okay?”

Clark swallowed, “You’re hurt very badly, but Emil thinks now that you are awake, and with some time to heal, you should be just fine.”

Bruce nodded again, slowly, he murmured, “…go home…”

Clark smiled with fondness, “As soon as Emil says you’re fit enough…”

Bruce grimaced, “No, you… go home.”

Clark frowned but then smiled openly, “I guess we both need some rest, huh?”

Clark reached out and took Bruce’s hand. Bruce stared at it and then pulled his own hand away, wincing at the effort, and Clark’s eyes widened in astonishment. Bruce turned his face away from him, and repeated, “Go home, Clark.”

Clark felt as if he’d been gutted. He studied Bruce for a moment trying to make sense of it. Bruce gazed at the far wall and blanked him. He stumbled backwards in dismay. He left the sickbay and wandered out into the main area; Emil saw him and asked in concern, “Is something wrong, Superman?”

He managed to mumble, “Bruce is awake, it’s okay, he seems fine, back to normal.”

Superman listlessly went up to the roof, and flew off and returned home to his apartment, the words ‘back to normal’ ringing in his ears.

~*~

He slept for hours; his dreams were fitful as they returned him to a couch, while Zorro beat the bad guys and won the heart of the beautiful heroine in the background. When he awoke, he took a shower, and as he washed, he realised he was probably expecting too much from Bruce, all at once. Bruce had just woken up to find himself in a terrible state, certainly not in the right frame of mind to talk about romance of any sort. He decided he would finish his shower and then grab a bite to eat, and then he would go and see how his friend was doing today.

~*~

He arrived at the Watchtower and made his way towards the sickbay. A voice called out, “Don’t go in there, Superman!”

Superman turned, and asked Dr Hamilton in dread, “Why, what has happened?”

Emil caught up, and tilted his head, “Nothing to be concerned about, but Batman has requested that you be restricted from entering sickbay during his recovery.”

He was bewildered, how could Bruce do that, or ask that? They were best friends… and since what had happened… he thought they were more… he suggested, “If you let me in I can talk to Bruce, and see what is going on.”

“I’m sorry, but Batman expressly asked us to not let that happen.”

Clark bowed his head and nodded in resignation. If that’s what Bruce wanted, he couldn’t force him to see him, especially in his condition. He rubbed his forehead, he was just going to have to bide his time until Bruce was willing to see him.

~*~

It had been weeks, months actually, Bruce had been moved to Wayne Manor for the remainder of his convalescence. Clark was receiving regular updates from Alfred about Bruce’s progress; however, Bruce still refused to see him. God, it hurt so much to keep hearing that. In the beginning, he had believed it would be a few days, but then those days had turned into weeks. The worst thing was he just missed his friend. He hated the idea that during these hard months of Bruce’s rehabilitation that he could have been there as a shoulder to lean on and instead Bruce had had to do it alone.

The night he received a message from Alfred telling him of Batman’s grand return to the dark streets of Gotham, Superman had been drawn there by an invisible thread. After concluding that if he was fit enough to be back out on the streets, then he was fit enough to talk to him. He flew to Gotham and scanned the rooftops until he found him. 

Superman floated down in front of Batman, he saw him go tense, and then Batman tried to ignore him and turned away.

Superman demanded, “Don’t turn away from me! I’ve done what you wanted; I stayed away all this time. Now, I want answers!”

Batman faced him; he inquired lowly, “Answers about what?”

Superman’s jaw tensed, “Don’t play the idiot with me, you know what. You have been hiding from me, and doing a better job out here, than you did in there.” He said motioning to Batman’s head.

Batman growled. “I haven’t been hiding; it’s taken a lot of time and effort to get back into shape, so I could get back out here, that’s all.”

The memory of Bruce’s damaged body in sickbay came to him; he sighed, “Bruce, you didn’t have to do it all alone, I could have…” he tried to reach out.

Batman pulled back and stated, “I didn’t need you there.”

Superman pulled his hand back, turned, and ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation; he turned back, “You needed me, when you were hiding out at my farm in Smallville!”

Batman chuckled humourlessly, “I wasn’t actually hiding out there, Superman.”

Superman echoed the chuckle, “Well, it sure as hell looked like it to me. What, were you doing there, then?”

Batman almost rolled his eyes; he said condescendingly, “You don’t understand do you? It was a construct, I was at the farm because it was you inside my mind, if J'onn had continued to search, he would have probably found me on Mars, and if Oliver had tried to find me, it would have been Star City.”

Superman shook his head in denial, “No.” 

That couldn’t be true could it? He had been very surprised to find Bruce there, and he certainly never expected to see him at the farm. After all, it had always been his safe haven not Bruce’s, but it was that fact alone that shook him enough to make him start to believe that maybe it was true.

Batman shook his head in condemnation, “Yes, it could have been anyone and I have kept my distance since then to save you any embarrassment.”

Superman swallowed anxiously, “Me…?”

Batman nodded, “We have been friends and allies for a long time, and I think it will better if we move on from the mortifying events that took place.”

Superman blinked rapidly, “Mortifying…?”

As he tried to come to terms with what Batman had told him, Batman smirked almost cruelly, swung out a line and disappeared into the night.

~*~

He was changing out of his uniform in his bedroom; he was still trying to figure it all out. He remembered being confused and surprised by Bruce’s actions at the farm, if everything that happened had come from his own mind, he wouldn’t have been so surprised right? Every touch, everything they had done had been surprising to him until they were in the hayloft where he had made the decision to suck Bruce off, which was the first time he had felt in control of what was happening. 

He remembers the way Bruce had looked at him, the way he had gasped his name as he had come for him. The way Bruce had whispered against his chest that he loved him that night, after confessing his fear of him not being there when he woke up.

His mind flashed to tonight, that almost cruel smile Bruce had given him, as Clark had doubted himself, again, as he had doubted them.

Bruce was many things but he wasn’t cruel… shit, he was still hiding! He was still afraid. “Today was the best, wasn’t it? I wish every day could be like that with you, Clark.”

Clark ground his teeth, livid with himself, Bruce had been afraid that Clark wouldn’t be there for him and he’d actually let himself be pushed away, so that he wasn’t.

He looked determinedly at his closet and then in a blur he changed into suitable clothes. He blurred again, and snatched Bruce up from the Manor and then released him at their destination.

~*~

Bruce stumbled and then regained his balance; he looked around in bewilderment, his eyes coming to focus on Clark in his jeans and old plaid shirt, “What is this…?”

Clark gave him a knowing look, “You recognise this place, don’t you, Bruce?” Clark spread his arms and turned in a circle, “It’s slightly different isn’t it? Your memory is almost perfect, but it couldn’t quite remember every detail, after all, you have only been here to my loft a few times before in the physical world, but probably often in your mind’s eye.”

Bruce glanced around the loft in the barn; he swallowed, “You have brought me to your farm in Smallville?”

Clark cocked his eyebrow, “You mean home?”

Bruce bowed his head and he sighed, “You shouldn’t have done this, Clark.”

Clark took a step towards him, “No, I shouldn’t have let you push me away. This is the first thing I’ve gotten right, since we were here last.”

Bruce shook his head desperately, and Clark told him, “I was your friend, Bruce, your best friend but it was you who changed that. You made our relationship sexual. It was you, who kissed me first; it was you who made me want you so badly.”

Bruce’s head jerked up and Clark caught and held his gaze, “It was you who made me fall in love with you.”

Bruce gasped and his brow furrowed, and then he screwed his eyes shut and he took a petrified breath, “Oh, god!”

Clark took another step, and then he cupped Bruce’s face and he leaned in and gave him their first corporeal kiss, Bruce responded gently and Clark sighed against Bruce’s lips, “Just as soft.”

Bruce moaned and brushed their lips together, “Huh?”

Clark smiled against Bruce’s lips, “Your lips are as soft as I imagined.”

He sucked Bruce’s lips and Bruce groaned deeply, and told him, “…and you taste as good as I imagined.”

Clark’s fingers started on Bruce’s shirt buttons but his hands came up to stop him, he said in a strained voice, “Clark…”

Clark asked, “What is it?”

Bruce looked embarrassed, “I don’t look like… I did in…”

Clark nodded in understanding, “I know that, Bruce. The way you looked the last time we were here, it was how you would have been without Batman, right?”

Bruce nodded silently and Clark reassured him, “I care about you being hurt but the scars don’t matter to me, Bruce.” 

He finished the buttons, and spread the shirt apart and then pushed it from Bruce’s shoulders. The first thing he saw was the scar on his bicep, the one that he had known should have been there before. Then he saw the discolouration of the scar tissue from the burn on his side. He gently caressed it and Bruce sighed, Clark asked, “It doesn’t hurt?”

Bruce shook his head, “No, it’s just sensitive now.”

Clark dipped down and brushed his lips across it, Bruce shivered, and Clark smiled. He found the rest of the little scars on Bruce’s body and kissed them, and Bruce’s body quivered under his ministrations.

Clark returned to Bruce’s lips and their kisses intensified, and then Bruce was unbuttoning Clark’s shirt and pushing it away, Bruce studied his body with avid attention and Clark asked, huskily, “Were you telling the truth the last time we were here?” 

Bruce looked quizzical, and so, Clark reached out and palmed Bruce’s crotch, Bruce groaned and pushed against it and Clark felt the hard length. He kissed Bruce hard and laughed in delight, “So, it’s true.”

Bruce mirrored the move and Clark moaned into the kiss. He pulled away and gazed at his best friend. “I want to be with you.”

Bruce held his gaze for a long moment and then began nodding slowly, “Yes, Clark.”

They lunged at each other at the same time; they stumbled over to the hay store, and fell against each other into it, Clark ended up on top and between Bruce’s thighs. Clark braced himself and rubbed their crotches together through the denim, and Bruce arched against him, raising one leg for easier movement and Clark grasped it, and wrapped it around his waist and ground down harder. Bruce gasped, grabbed, and held on to Clark’s ass. 

His nimble fingers went to Clark’s waistband, and Clark groaned into Bruce’s mouth as he pushed Clark’s jeans over his ass, and then grasped his bare ass.

Clark held onto Bruce and rolled them over in the hay and then his own hands went to Bruce’s clasps on his pants. Bruce sat up straddling him; he gazed at Clark and licked his lips as Clark unzipped him. Clark gazed at Bruce’s strong body, he dipped his head and licked Bruce’s nipple, and then he sucked it as he ran his hands over Bruce’s muscular back, down to his waistband and then pushed his hands down under the material. Bruce groaned loudly and held Clark’s head to him. 

Clark’s finger found its way between Bruce’s ass cheeks and rubbed against him, Bruce made a small noise and Clark released his nipple and locked eyes with him, he asked permission, “Yes…?”

Bruce blinked slowly and gazed deep into Clark’s eyes, he said softly, “Yes.”

Clark smiled brightly and kissed him again, he rolled them over again so he could remove both their pants.

~*~

He’d found something to use as lube and now he was lining up against Bruce’s ass. He paused in awe of this moment, Bruce lay under him, his hands grasping Clark’s forearms in preparation, and his legs spread widely for him, waiting for him. Clark wondered how long Bruce had actually been waiting for him. 

He asked apprehensively, “Are you ready?”

Bruce quirked his lips, “You aren’t normally this restrained in your actions.”

“Are you telling me off about that even now?”

Bruce shook his head against the hay, “No, Clark, right now I don’t want you to think. I want you to do.” He smiled playfully, “Do me.”

The playful smile reminded him of his adventure inside Bruce’s mind, and Clark realised with delight that it was Bruce’s real smile. He returned the smile, and then leaned in and kissed Bruce and then slowly began to press into him. Bruce’s hold on his forearms tightened, and he groaned and arched against him. Clark came to a halt when he was fully inside, he moaned at the feeling of being inside his best friend, he uttered, “Oh, Bruce, oh, god yes!”

He gazed down at him, and Bruce’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open in rapture, as Clark stared in amazement, Bruce opened his eyes, he looked at him with an unbelievable loving expression in his eyes, and then he chuckled hoarsely, “Oh, shit, you are big.”

Clark’s eyes widened in surprise and then laughter escaped him, “Well, yeah, don’t you like it?”

Bruce tensed his ass muscles around his cock, “I’d like it even better if you actually started moving.”

Clark groaned, “Jeez, you’re a control freak even when you are getting….”

Bruce goaded, “Say it!”

Clark scowled at him, because he knew right then, and there what a relationship with Bruce Wayne was going to be like. A challenge, however, Clark Kent did love a challenge. 

He leaned in further and whispered in Bruce’s ear, “Fucked.”

Bruce reflexively bucked up against him, and in an almost Batman-like tone, Bruce growled, “So you can say the word, but can you do it?”

Clark smirked, and then withdrew and then thrust back inside deeply, Bruce cried out and so Clark did it again, and again. Bruce’s hands scrambled over Clark’s back and he moaned, “Oh, yes, Clark, that’s it…”

Clark buried his face into the nook of Bruce’s neck and nipped and sucked there, he goaded, “Say it.”

Bruce grasped Clark’s head in his hands, and gazed into his eyes and he told him, “Fuck me, Clark.”

Clark’s cock throbbed and he withdrew slightly; he lifted Bruce’s legs and hooked them over his shoulders. Bruce exclaimed, “Oh, damn!”

Clark grinned at him, and then began a faster rhythm and they both began moaning and crying out incessantly. When the wet warmth of Bruce’s come spurted between them without either of them touching his cock, it tipped Clark over the edge as well. He thrust repeatedly and deeply into Bruce until he finished coming too.

He gazed down and smiled at Bruce’s flushed features, Bruce’s mouth panting for air. He picked a strand of hay out of Bruce’s messy hair, and then caressed his cheek. He jokingly asked, “Do you think it’s always going to be like that between us?”

Bruce reached up, and grasped the back of Clark’s neck and pulled him closer, “Damn, I hope so.” And then he kissed him.

~*~

They lay in the hay, quietly, Clark was on his side, and his fingers played along the burn scar on Bruce’s torso. Bruce had his eyes closed but Clark knew he wasn’t asleep. Clark murmured softly, “I should have known I loved you, because when I saw you lying in sickbay, I wanted to hunt down the people who had done this to you, and....”

Bruce replied, with his eyes still closed, “and done what, I know you wouldn’t have killed them, Clark.”

Clark swallowed and admitted, “I wanted to…”

Bruce opened his eyes, he shrugged, “I want to too, but that’s not what we do, is it? What we do is deliver justice not revenge.”

Clark nodded, “And we will, that’s because we are the good guys.”

Bruce replied, “Yes, we are.” They leaned in together and kissed softly, Bruce gave him a small smile, “Good guys who have worked up an appetite.”

Clark grinned, “Okay, let me take you home and we will see if Alfred has made some real pies… not store bought.” He added cheekily.

He stood up and held out a hand to help Bruce too, and Bruce took the offered hand and begged, “Promise me, you won’t tell him about that.”

Clark laughed, “Well, I guess if I make that promise, I will deserve some sugar later on for doing it.”

Bruce shook his head, “Being with the real you, is going to be hard work, isn’t it?”

Clark tilted his head, “You’ve got no room to talk, and besides, I’m up for the challenge, are you?”

Bruce smiled, “Yes, yeah I am.”

The end


End file.
